


Guardian Angel

by PrincexPhoenix



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: F/M, Good Omens Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 10:28:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21967834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincexPhoenix/pseuds/PrincexPhoenix
Summary: When Thaddeus Dowling decides to go back to America without Harriet, she decides to go to her favourite bar and pick up someone random to take back to her mansion.
Relationships: Gabriel/Harriet Dowling
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21
Collections: Good Omens Kink Meme





	Guardian Angel

Harriet Dowling was bored. It was hard enough being in a foreign country where she had no friends. It was worse when her fucking husband was back in America again without her, for the millionth time. Never mind that Harriet had begged to come along this time. No, Thaddeus had said, they needed to maintain their bonds with the English diplomats. Besides, Harriet loved England, didn’t she?

No, Harriet did not love England. But that was fine. There was one thing that London had going for it, and that was the copious amounts of alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol. Good alcohol too, none of the weak shit that she was used to in overpriced American bars. Harriet did another shot of vodka, grimacing and whooping as it burned down her throat. The bartender looked at her sidelong and she grinned.

“What?” she asked, kicking her heels. “Never seen a gal let loose before?”

“Not quite as loudly,” the bartender said with a grin. Harriet returned it.

“What’s your name?” Harriet asked.

“Imogen,” Imogen said. She grinned again and Harriet grinned back.

“Imogen,” Harriet said. “I’m Harriet, and my husband is an asshole.”

Imogen chuckled. “Aren’t they all?”

Imogen had very pretty eyes. And very pretty hands. One of which was very prettily sporting a pretty ring. Harriet sighed. “You’re married too?”

“Yeah,” Imogen said, beaming. “Just got married. The minute they passed the act and it went into effect, my wife and I stormed the nearest church.”

“Take it from me, kid,” Harriet said. “You’re not going to love her in about a year.”

Imogen looked nervous, fiddling with the glass in her hands. Harriet forced a smile on her face. “Look, if you give me another vodka shot, I’ll give you a tip that’ll mean you and your wife can go on vacation to the bahamas and go away. How does that sound?”

“Okay,” Imogen said with some relief. She made the shot, paused, and put in an extra finger. Harriet whistled.

“You’re a lifesaver, doll,” she said. “Your wife is one lucky woman.”

Imogen smiled. “I’m the lucky one, I think,” she said. Harriet felt a sting of longing deep within her. She hadn’t felt that way about Thaddeus since…

Oh, right. She had never felt that way about Thaddeus. Waving once, Harriet walked away from the bar and slammed the shot down her throat. Fuck, she thought, she needed to get laid. If her new nanny wasn’t clearly in love with the weird gardener, she may have asked her. Drunk enough, Harriet may have asked both of them. But Thaddeus refused to keep alcohol in the house since Warlock was born.

Sighing, she slumped in a booth all the way in the back. The vodka had finally kicked in and Harriet was contemplating taking home the small British man that kept giving her furtive looks when the bar door opened with a boom. Glass shattered and Harriet looked to the front of the bar. Her eyes widened and she straightened. The man standing there, looking at the glass rather mournfully, was a cut above the rest. Literally. He was taller than the nanny, which meant that he broke six feet. He had a classic square jaw, clean brown hair, and a face completely devoid of facial hair.

“I’m so sorry,” he said to Imogen, with no real hint of being sorry about anything. His American accent echoed throughout the bar. Harriet licked her lips and looked closer. He was tall, buff but not too buff, and was wearing a nice, expensive suit underneath that jacket. Her eyes strayed to his crotch and noted, with some approval, that there was a definite outline, if one knew how to look. And Harriet knew how to look.

“Well, hello sailor,” Harriet muttered to herself. She pulled out her compact mirror and checked herself. Her lipstick was a little out of touch and she quickly fixed it up. She snapped the mirror closed. She looked up and the man was deep in conversation with Imogen, flashing his white teeth in an apologetic smile. Imogen was clearly put out, pointing to the glass, and Harriet decided to play the hero.

“And what am I supposed to tell my manager,” Imogen was saying as Harriet drifted closer, “some American arsehole burst into his bar and decided to break everything and refused to pay for it?”

“Isn’t ‘paying for things’ something usually reserved for when one makes a purchase?” the man asked. The question, unlike his apology, actually sounded genuine. 

A real asshole, Harriet thought. Her lips curved into a smile as she sat at the bar and watched out of the corner of her eye.

“You broke it,” Imogen said. “You have to pay for it.”

Harriet stepped in front of the man, placing a hand on his chest. It was firm and she lost track of what she was saying for a moment. Broken glass. Right.

“I’ll pay for it,” Harriet said. “Just charge it to this.” She slapped down a card that had Thaddeus’ name on it. Serves him right, leaving her to go off to America on his own.

“You’ve got a guardian angel or something,” Imogen said to the man, a scowl on her face. “Nice lady like this coming to your rescue.” She stomped off and Harriet turned around, taking in the man before her. The first thing she noticed this time was his eyes. They were a piercing blue, so deep that Harriet could have sworn they were violet.

“I’m no angel,” Harriet purred. His attention snapped to her and she grinned. “But I think Imogen is right. I am a nice lady, coming to your rescue.”

He nodded once. “Thanks,” he said. Harriet leaned forward, making sure her cleavage was visible as she did. Like most men, he looked down at it. Harriet was surprised when he looked up without lingering. “Can I help you?”

“I think you can,” Harriet said. She walked her fingers up his chest, stopping at his tie. She undid it just enough to have him raising his eyebrows in alarm. “If you know what I mean.”

“Ah,” the man said. He gripped her hand and lowered it back to her side. “I’m not sure I do,” he said.

Harriet sighed. “Look,” she said. “I’m not unreasonable. But I did just bail you out of a jam there.”

“I suppose,” the man agreed. He looked down at the glass and shrugged. 

Harriet hopped onto the barstool behind her and crossed her legs. The man looked down at them and back up at her face. Harriet resisted the urge to sigh. “But expensive regardless. Although you look like you have expensive taste…”

The man squinted at her. “I like clothes,” he said in tones of deep hurt.

“They are very sharp,” Harriet said. She leaned forward and pulled the man down by his tie. “They would look better on the floor of a bedroom,” she whispered into his ear.

The man eased back, brow furrowed. “Do floors typically wear clothes?”

Harriet stared at him. “What’s your name?”

He grinned and held out his hand. “Gabriel.”

Harriet shook it. “Harriet Dowling.” His eyes widened and he suddenly seemed much more interested. “You have a last name, Gabriel?”

Gabriel’s eyes shifted away from her. Harriet’s predatory instincts stirred. Big, dumb, and adorable. “Um. Augustine. Gabriel Augustine.”

“Well, Gabriel,” she said, leaning back. “Are you always this obtuse when women are trying to take you home for sex?”

Gabriel’s eyes widened even further, if at all possible. “You’re married, though,” he protested.

“Married women need sex too.” Harriet shrugged. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Gabriel seemed to be thinking hard about that. Harriet leaned forward again. This time her foot travelled up his leg until it was square on his crotch. His eyes tracked it and Harriet smiled. It was almost too easy.

“Come home with me,” she said, grabbing his hand. Big, big hand. That boded well. “If you don’t like it, you can leave. But you will like it. I promise.”

Gabriel looked up and frowned. He opened his mouth and shut it. 

“Fine,” he said, looking back down at Harriet. “Where do you live?”

Harriet grinned. “Oh, sailor, I have a driver for that.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They had barely gotten into the mansion when Harriet had pulled Gabriel down for a kiss. Despite his earlier confusion, the man seemed all too eager to return the embrace, picking Harriet up and placing her on the kitchen counter. She made a mental apology to her cleaners before biting Gabriel’s lip hard enough that he pulled back with alarm. She smiled coyly at him, taking off her heels and placing them on the counter. She then reached down and slid off her panties, dropping them into his hands.

“Come on,” she said. “Big, strong, attractive man like you has had to have sex like this before, right? Women are probably throwing themselves at you.”

Gabriel flashed her a smile. “You’d be surprised,” he said. “I don’t really get out much. Work takes up a lot of my time.”

“Is that so?” Harriet said. “My husband works a lot too. Bet your wife probably hates how often you’re away from her.” 

She kissed his neck before he replied, yanking at his tie to bring him closer. He stumbled and ended up with his hips between her legs. Harriet sighed and wrapped her legs around his ass, pulling him in closer. His hands gripped her sides and she pulled back with a small frown. 

“You have had sex before, right?”

“Yes,” Gabriel said. 

Harriet kissed him. She pushed her hands underneath his shirt and ran them over his chest before pulling back with a teasing smile.

“Then what are we waiting for?” Harriet asked. She pulled off her dress and unhooked her bra. “Let’s get to it.” 

She kissed him again and wrapped her arms around his neck. He picked her up and she gasped before laughing. 

“Oh, you’re strong,” she said. “My bedroom is upstairs, or we can fuck on the couch. I’m not really that fussy.”

“A lady usually prefers a bed correct?” Gabriel said. 

Harriet kissed him, moving her tongue against his, and he let out a moan into her mouth. She ground herself against his erection.

“Oh, I’m not a lady,” she said. “Fuck me on the couch, Gabriel.”

His pupils dilated at that and he brought her over to the couch. Her back hit it and she gasped as he ground himself against her. It had no business feeling as good as it did, but it did. She bit his neck and sucked, deciding that she would leave little marks all over his skin. Let the next woman know that Harriet Dowling had been here. Gabriel was more invested in carefully taking off every article of clothing he wore and folding it. Harriet propped herself up on her elbows and watched the display. In any other situation, it would have been the most boring five minutes of her life, but Gabriel was a specimen and a half. Classically handsome with a face that was straight out of Mad Men.

Her hand pressed against her clit and moved in tight circles as he unbuttoned his shirt. Bit by bit the skin of his torso appeared and Harriet absolutely devoured the sight of his abs. The last time Thaddeus had looked toned was, well, never. Her fingers were coated in her own arousal by the time that Gabriel shrugged out of the button-down, revealing his arms. Nice, muscular, toned arms. Harriet dipped her head back and moaned, forcing her fingers away from her clit before she came. She waited until she could think again and looked back at Gabriel, who was now rolling his socks with a small frown on his face.

“Gabriel,” she growled. He looked over at her and lifted an eyebrow. “I’m going to rip those pants off of you,” she said, pressing herself against his chest. She kissed the hollow of his throat before kissing down his chest. “So hurry up, for God’s sake.”

Gabriel looked pained for a split second before he pulled off his pants and boxers with nothing more than a flourish. Harriet blinked, about to say something, but looked at his cock and grinned. There were more important things.

“Someone’s hung like a horse,” she said, running her fingertips over it. Gabriel’s hips twitched and she did it again. This time he thrust into her hands and Harriet grinned. “Fucking hot as hell.”

“Hell’s actually cold,” Gabriel said. “And horses don’t get hung. The noose isn’t made for them.” 

Harriet looked up at him.

“It’s just an expression,” she said. How was he so attractive and so incredibly obtuse? “Your cock is sexy.” She lowered her head and gave his shaft a lick. As expected, he bucked again and she laughed. “And you’re so easy to please.” He looked like he was about to say something but Harriet took the head of his penis into her mouth and suddenly his mouth was otherwise occupied. A groan tore out of him and he held himself still except for the slightest of twitches. A true gentleman, Harriet thought. Where had he been when she was young and drunk in college?

She took another inch of him into her mouth and then another before she realised that it was her limit. So she bobbed up and down, lapping up the precum that leaked out as she did. His hands tangled in her hair and she grinned to herself. Still had it.

She pulled off after awhile and wiped her mouth. “You must have the self control of a monk,” she said. Most guys usually come after, like, a minute of that.”

Gabriel smiled in a way that Harriet could only describe as sickeningly charming. “I wouldn’t want to have an orgasm before you did.”

Oh, Harriet thought. She might just be in love. “God, where have you been all my life?” Harriet said, kissing him. 

She pushed him down onto the couch and shifted, taking him into herself. He stretched her in ways that were only a memory since she had been married. Her hips began to roll as she rode him, her hands on his hips, pushing them down to keep them still. 

“You just lay back and relax,” she said, kissing his neck. “I’ll do all the work, gorgeous.”

She stared into his violet eyes, bouncing up and down on his cock. He was gorgeous. She splayed her hands on his chest and continued her movements. He looked up at her with big, earnest eyes and she had to smile. “I wish I could just keep you,” she murmured.

“I’m only in town for a day or two,” Gabriel said. “But if I was here for longer, I’d stay.” His big hands grazed over her hips. “You were right, at the bar. I like this.”

Harriet grunted. Her orgasm was close now and she focused on finding just the right angle. She pulled his hand in between her legs and he took the hint. His fingers rubbed her clit in the same tight circles that she had done to herself before. Harriet came, and had one of the best orgasms of her entire life. She rode him through the lightning bolts of pleasure that ran up and down her spine. Her toes even curled.

She rolled off of him and lay against his chest, panting. He wasn’t even sweating and she ran her finger down his chest. “Did you even enjoy it?” she asked.

“Oh, yes,” he said. 

He turned to her with a wide, gleaming smile and Harriet grinned back. Her hands went between his legs and fondled his still hard cock. She ran her hands up and down his shaft, flicking over his head. His neck dipped back as his eyes fluttered closed and it was the sexiest thing that Harriet had ever seen. She kissed his neck and left a few more marks by the time he came. His semen spilled onto her hand and she licked it off. It was actually sweet and clean tasting.

“Stay for breakfast?” Harriet asked. “My nanny makes… okay, she makes terrible eggs. But Warlock - my son - seems to enjoy them, so maybe it’s just me.”

“I’d love to,” Gabriel said, running his hand up and down her back. “But I’m afraid I’ve overstayed my welcome as it is.” 

He stood up and Harriet pouted. She didn’t pout for long, staring at his ass. The things she would do to it, if she had the time. Watching him put his clothes on was not as much fun as watching him take them off. Harriet rolled onto her back and sighed.

“Nothing I can do to convince you that you’re very, very welcome?” she asked. “You could stay the entire time my husband’s away.”

Gabriel chuckled and did up his tie. “No, unfortunately not,” he said. He pulled on his coat and held out his hand. Harriet put her hand in his and he pulled her to her feet. He kissed her hand. “But if our paths ever cross again, Harriet Dowling, I’d be excited to do this one more time. At least once more.”

“You flatterer,” she said. She pulled him down for another kiss. “Can I get the driver to drop you off anywhere?”

“No,” he said, kissing her one more time before pulling away. “Take care, Harriet.”

“Yeah,” she said. “You too.” She watched him walk out of the door and sighed. “All the good ones,” she murmured to herself. With a shake of her head, she went up the stairs to her bedroom, leaving her clothes for the maids in the morning. She did sneak a peek at Warlock and found him sleeping peacefully. Smiling, Harriet collapsed into her bed.

Having never looked back out her living room window, she missed the flash of lightning from a cloudless sky.


End file.
